Locked Heart
by Baebe Caitlin
Summary: An almost lackadaisical trip through Tifa's mind ^~ I think it suits Tifa, and Johnny for that matter (you guys remember him?), but it's not my best work.


~ Locked Heart ~  
  
"…a…r-a…l…"  
  
"?"  
  
"Tifa."  
  
Tifa blinked twice, feeling the haze of daydreaming leave her. It was the kind of feeling of drifting endlessly, halfway between consciousness and sleep, and it felt so good, so good it almost hurt. She was crouched behind the counter of the bar, her hand still clasped on a bottle of Smirnoff. Why she had glazed away she did not know, only that she enjoyed it, ever second of lilting away from this dull reality. The slums had gotten progressively better now…if one would still call them slums at all. Midgar had been completely rebuilt. Where there were once "sections" provinces did flourish. There was no eternal night sky, but now the soothing blue space, its territory dotted with pearl colored clouds did mix with the starry nighttime backdrop she never grew tired of staring at. No one used pretentious garbage for their homes anymore: there were three classes intertwined: the middle, low, and high, and all of the low could at least afford the adequate apartments that had been built for them. Life was finally getting better for the very people she dedicated her own to in AVALANCHE. As for herself, she created a nice, cozy home and garden near the old waterfall, similar to their unforgettable friend, Aerith. She lived alone, and, though she had more friends than she had ever expected, she was lonely.  
  
She was with Cloud. They were roaming about the streets of the Golden Saucer, hand in hand, skipping not a single ride and going through all the arcade games together. He dragged her on the gondola (she was so, so very afraid of heights in the dream) and held her all through the ascent above civilization. They ran to the haunted hotel to sleep (yet who could sleep? They whispered indistinct words to each other all night) and the very next day jetted to Costa del Sol to go to the beach. She wore her silver bikini especially for him; its thin straps tightening over her smooth skin and clenching the chest to just the right measure, so that she appeared naturally provoking, rather than looking like she tried to. And he wore those hugging blue trunks, the ones that bobbed to the rhythm of the water when he moved, playing with her in the tide, so he ended up looking like a model for Gucci rather than the average boy girls naturally turned their heads to. And though it was no doubt wrong, she imagined that she was Aerith in those final moments, being plagued by Sephiroth, and that he pushed her out of the way, holding her on the ground, sweating from the inconceivable fact that she was almost dead. Cloud was all these things in her dreams, and he was all these things with other people, and she was the only one missing out.  
  
At least that's how she felt.  
  
But now she wasn't sure. He had gone to do another mission, nothing of the terrorist sort, but for the Army (as in the one that existed outside his head). Before he had left, he had given her another rose to dry and add to the increasing bouquet in the bar. Where he was getting all these flowers she had no idea, but they were lovely, and the fact that they came from him was an altogether dream. She assumed they were casual; they never kissed, never talked of sex or love, but the subtle body language; the clasp of hands and the genuine smiles…where did this all go?  
  
And why, why for God's sake, was she so tied down by one insignificant man?  
  
"Sorry, what did you say?" She stood up quickly, popped off the bottle cap and expertly poured it into a misty glass. Johnny was sitting on the other side, his flaming hair almost hurting her eyes. He was handsome; and so innocent it was alluring. She often laughed about how he tried so hard to be bad, but it just didn't work out. Though his outfit was dark and mysterious, his face was that of a freckled angel.  
  
"Wow. Are you okay, Tiff?" He laughed. "Are you in your own little world again?"  
  
"Hah, you know it." She slid the remote to an impatient customer near the wall, and he switched it to the Kalm versus Wutai football game. "I'm sorry, I'm just not really with it. The last few days have been stressing."  
  
"Oh, the whole Shang thing?"  
  
"Yep." Shang was a military oriented refuge program for those countries at war, and she had become intensely involved in it. It wasn't uncommon that she would spend some seventeen hours straight ever so often in the countries, helping the civilians, tending to the sick, and preparing tons of food to feed those families. She enjoyed doing it, the whole prospect, saving countless lives that could have perished, but it was also riding on her health. The past week was particularly stressing. She had been involved with an orphanage set up in Midgar for the children who lost their parents in battle. She went every day to the building, caring for them (with others of course) and helping to find foster families. Today, tomorrow, and the day after she was off, however, though now she had to work to feed herself, and it was a distant memory when she could sleep late and stay out in the clubs all night.  
  
"Not to be counterproductive or anything…Tiff…" Johnny stared hard at his glass, the low temperature making his clutched fingers blue, "but why don't you cut down on that a little? You already do the work of several people. Don't hurt yourself."  
  
"Thanks, Johnny," she grinned slightly and tucked her hair behind an ear. "Maybe I should."  
  
"Yeah, and then more time with your friends, huh?" He smiled widely, making her show teeth as well. "Like me!"  
  
"Hahaha, yeah, okay."  
  
The man at the end of the bar slammed the remote down angrily when the Kalm team fumbled. The batteries fell out and the busted piece of plastic slid across the counter to her side on the ground. The noise was so biting that everyone looked at him angrily, their hands on their ears and their teeth clenched.  
  
"Damn it, that was unjust!" he shouted, glaring at everyone who looked at him, daring them to say anything.  
  
"Jeez, it's just a game," Tifa stood fearless and tall behind the counter, narrowing her eyes for long seconds before turning back to Johnny. "Some people."  
  
"Tell me about it," he said, taking a sip. "Like that Cloud guy. Is he permanently anal or what?"  
  
Tifa said nothing, but watched the swirling colors of the counters design. They made tiny, artistic designs over and over again, in different patterns, and she began to trace her fingers over one of the prettier ones. "Have you talked to him lately? He's gotten better. He just went through some hard times."  
  
"I suppose, but what I remember was that he was always so serious. He never lightened up for anyone. Not even you…"  
  
"W-well," she said hurriedly, grabbing the remote from the angry man before he caused further damage. "That's just the kind of person he is. You know? He's let the serious side of him get the better of him. He doesn't see life as a game, like other people do. He's very deep."  
  
"Do you think I see life as a game?" Johnny had stopped drinking, and was now blankly staring at the TV screen, where Tifa had switched to MTV2. The man had gone out.  
  
"Of course not. I'm just saying, he doesn't have a lot of mirth in him, like you and I. But he's getting better."  
  
He looked away, his smile replaced by subsequent frowns. Shy, blameless, and like a boy, he never failed at gaining her sympathy, and it was doubly painful that she had caused such strife within him. "Johnny," she began, trying to catch his gaze. "Johnny, listen to me, I'm sorry," she grabbed his hand—more like clawed it, 'til he finally lifted his eyes to watch her. "What are you thinking?"  
  
"That…" he studied the lights overhead for a moment. It was like a halo around his fiery locks. "I…think…Cloud really likes you."  
  
Her face fell. "What?"  
  
"I really think so, Tiff. You had to pull it out of me, but it's true. Why else all the flowers, all the 'long talks' and the way he always seems to go straight to you before Barrett or Yuffie or whoever else?"  
  
"Well, he and I are just friends—"  
  
"No, you and I are just friends. But…and I…" he stopped, collecting his words. "I can tell you like him too."  
  
She faked a gasp and grinned. "Scandalous!"  
  
"Seriously," he was smiling too now. "Why don't you pursue him?"  
  
She leaned her head on the counter. "Chasing after a guy who doesn't like me; that doesn't work. It would ruin a good friendship with awkward feelings. He may like me…who knows? Who knows what Cloud is feeling? But I never know for sure with him. I need someone who genuinely likes me, loves me even. That way I'll know for sure…"  
  
Through all this she held hands with Johnny (as they usually do in intense conversations) and was only just feeling the icy effects of his skin on her own. She didn't care, though. She was only dreaming, lost in thought, her eyes floating to his ruddy cheeks. He looked so childlike in studying her words, his face hard in thought, his brown eyes deep in concentration. What was he thinking about, anyway? Trying to understand a woman's mind. It was almost laughable. Yet so…like him.  
  
The bar was clear now, the pale stars coming out of their hiding places. Many people would be arriving soon, crammed in the even enlarged bar, yet he continued to stare at their fingers. He squeezed her hand a little, looked up, and grinned. 


End file.
